Cole, aghast, releases "Lauren," and she immediately skitters out of the office to file a whopping multimillion-dollar lawsuit against her employer. "What's happening to me?" Cole groans. A disembodied voice answers, "You know." The camera swings around as Billy Drago, also known as Barbas, The Demon Of Fear, appears in glowily outlined form by the desk. "You're evil," Barbas continues, sauntering spectrally to Cole's side. "It's your worst fear, and it's true." Barbas flickers out as Cole heaves and doubles over into the opening credits.
My God. No opening travelogue this evening. That's right -- no establishment of the phallic Coit Tower atop Telegraph Hill to the strains of a trilling ovary, no sweeping pan of the waterfront from the bay, no soulful testicles, zip. Nada. Nothing. We aren't even treated to a shot of the Manor facade. Is this unprecedented? Out on the sun porch, Raige has arranged a small copper kettle and a couple of blazing candles, along with various potion ingredients and the Book of Shadows, on the cast-iron table. She flings a bit of something into the pot, and it belches out an anemic cloud of smoke and feathers. "Dammit!" Raige bitches as the Dolt wanders in from the dining room, wondering what gives. Raige reveals that she's attempting to recreate The Late Lamented's "Animal Conjuring Spell." Buh? Is this new? Why would Prue want to...oh, never mind. The Dolt razzes her for getting Wiccy in front of the sun porch's many, many windows. Shout-out, you ask? Sorry. More like Contrivance and Foreshadowing, dropping by the Manor for a few happy hour Mai Tais before making out with each other over on the wicker love seat. Raige was feeling "a little cramped" in the attic, you see, so she decided to bring the show downstairs. Demian will not be making any Midol jokes at Raige's expense this evening, thank you. Except for the part of this recap where he just did. In any event, Raige is also back to comparing herself unfavorably to The Late Lamented with regard to her mastery of Wiccan technique. The Dolt thought Raige was over that sort of thing. Raige thought she was as well, but she's been feeling "insecure" "these past couple of days." Piper bubbles in from the kitchen at this moment with an announcement regarding her schedule, along with the welcome news that her morning sickness has finally abated. "Hel-lo, second trimester!" Piper enthuses. Whuh? Second trimester? Second trimes...oh, the hell with it. As the Dolt snuggles against the wife in celebration of a vomit-free future, we get an odd tracking shot into Raige's face for her reaction to this news. If you're interested, she appears to be mildly annoyed. No, I have no idea what it means. Why don't you ask the two literary conventions slobbering all over each other on the love seat? I'm sure they'd be able to interpret Raige's mood, if they ever managed to yank their tongues out of each other's mouth. Piper offers some sick-making comment about "practicing for the new kid" that afternoon before macking with the Dolt. "Ew!" Raige squeals. "I'm still here, thanks!" Darling, after those foul antics involving the greasy Australian and your errant O a couple of weeks ago, you are in no position to criticize.